Book 4: Deyja
by JayTang
Summary: Book 4: Death. After taking Feinster, Eragon and Saphira must race against the clock to find a way to kill Galbatorix. A mysterious stranger may know a way to do so, but true intents are in question... and so is his humanity. A Lemon-free fic. on hiatus
1. Chapter 1: A Mysterious Stranger

(A/N: It seems that a growing amount of people are allergic to lemons, if you know what I mean. So I finally decided to write a fic that doesn't contain any, on a new account. However, this fic will contain violence, language, gore, and character death. **If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT**. As usual, almost all flames and reviews _will be_ ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements. Okay, that's my rant for now. Enjoy my version of Book 4!)

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Stranger

_Somewhere in a dark room_

"Where can I find the Varden?"

The bloody and beaten man thrashed about in his bonds, and replied.

"I can't tell you, I have sworn an oath in the Ancient Language not to reveal that information unless under explicit information from my superi- ummph!"

The man thrashed around even more as a mental probe ripped though his mind, seeking the desired information. After going through some particularly disturbing memories, the location was discovered, and the man stopped thrashing around. A figure rose from beside the corpse and sighed. He sent a message through the mental bond he shared with only one other.

_I have the location. Finish up your feeding and prepare to leave._

A thought-pattern-picture, rather than words, answered him.

_Location-target is where-whatplace?_

_A city called Feinster, apparently. That is where we shall find the… hatchling-rider._

_Is there food-meal-prey there?_

_It's a port city. I'm sure there will be enough fishermen to feed you. Let us be off._

_Feinster_

_Saphira, I've been thinking…_

_That is always dangerous, little one. But continue._

_We will have to face Galbatorix within around a year. Now that we've taken Feinster, we have committed an open act of warfare against him. He won't ignore us like a fly buzzing around him anymore. Now that we have bitten him, Galbatorix will feel obliged to try to swat us, so to speak. We will have to-_

_-find a way to destroy him, little one. Which will involve separating him from-_

_-the Eldunari, yes. And before he decides to destroy us, first. I'm concerned that we can't make it in time._

Saphira snorted, causing plumes of smoke to erupt from her nostrils.

_That kind of thinking will get us no where, Eragon. I believe there is someone, something, or somewhere that has the answer. If there isn't, we will die. Well, just about everyone except us, that is. Galbatorix will probably keep us alive, you to show the penalties of insurrection, and me to breed new generations of dragons. _

_Saphira… thank you. We should get back to Nasuada. She's probably already begun to plan things six months in advance._

Still being young, Saphira could not resist the chance to shoot off one more barb.

_I see your thinking, little one. If Nasuada is making plans, then both you and Arya will be there. Are you so anxious to see her again?_

Eragon scowled.

_If it were anyone but you, I would punch you in the face. As it is, I would feel the pain too._

Saphira merely gave a low dragon chuckle, and adjusted here body to give Eragon access to the saddle.

_If it were anyone but me, you wouldn't break your hand trying to punch my scales._


	2. Chapter 2: Appearances

(A/N: This fic contains violence, language, possible innuendo, gore, and character death. **If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT**. As usual, almost all flames and reviews _will be_ ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements.)

(As usual, I do not own any part of the inheritance series. If I did I would have killed Eragon's innocence long ago.)

(Holy crap it's been so long! I will try to update as often as possible, but it may be weeks between updates, or only a few hours.)

9/28/2009

Chapter 2: Appearances

Lorana's palace, Feinster

Nasuada, Eragon, Arya, Orrin, and Garzhvog were sitting around a magnificent marble table, discussing where to strike next. They were all sitting in find mahogany chairs, except for Garzhvog. His bulk forced him to use a marble bench, which barely accommodated him. Amazingly, there was enough space in the room for Saphira to fit; even if she was standing.

Nasuada's personal guard, Alaya, was with her. Ever since Eragon had removed part of Elva's curse, Garven, captain of the Nighthawks, had insisted that she had a guard at all times. Even in her own room as she slept. Alaya was a young brunette with amazing skill with a bow. Nasuada had once seen her put an arrow through a man's eye from well over five hundred paces away.

Everyone was discussing what to do next and such. As everyone talked at the same time, Eragon dully noted through several large panes of glass that the sun had already risen and was getting ready to set. They had started in the morning.

"I doubt it would be wise to strike at Uru'baen next. Our army has not yet recovered."

"Also, our army is useless if Saphira and I cannot defeat Galbatorix. He and Shurikun can kill thousands of men every second."

"We must take a course of action soon; my men are getting restless. Urgals are born to fight, not sit around, especially in the vicinity of humans."

And so they argued about what to do, how to do it, when to do it, why to do it, who should they do it with, where to do it, and so on. Eventually, Nasuada simply called the meeting to a halt, since it was all a nonissue at the moment.

"That will be enough for today."

A voice that should not have been there cut through suddenly, leaving silence that hung in the air. Quiet but definitely discernable, a voice spoke:

"Good, I was getting tired of waiting."

Eragon felt a sudden _thud_ in the air as the glass windows shattered inwards.

(A/N sorry it was so short but school's hell now. Eh thats a complete lie. I've just been lazy. Anyways, please review it.)

(some people seem to put read and review at the end. If you're at the end, im gonna assume you already read it .)


	3. Chapter 3: Conflicts

**(A/N: This fic contains violence, language, possible innuendo, gore, and character death. ****If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT****. As usual, almost all flames and reviews **_**will be**_** ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements.)**

**(As usual, I do not own any part of the inheritance series. If I did I would have killed Eragon's innocence long ago.)**

**(Okay well I have quite a few chapters planned in ahead of this, but I probably won't be able to put them down on paper (into a doc?) for a while. I've gotten really caught up in my Spyro fic, and I just don't feel like writing this one. So this may be the last update for quite a while, unless I run out of steam on After the War.)**

10/18/2009

Chapter 3: Tests

Amidst the raining glass, Eragon saw a man. He actually wasn't that tall, probably just a finger's breadth shorter than Eragon himself. His uneven short black hair, along with his somewhat dirty clothes, gave him a ragged appearance. Eragon eyes took in a hilt, but this man wore the scabbard differently than anyone Eragon had ever seen before. To draw this blade one would have to reach behind the back, just above the hip, and pull, with the blade along the bottom of the hand, pinky-sided. This man must either be an idiot, or have a completely different fighting style than Eragon had ever seen.

But it was the beast beside him that truly drew Eragon's attention. It looked like a giant wolf; on all fours it almost came up to Eragon's shoulders.

_Could it be a Shrrg? No, it has too much fur. It looks like it comes from somewhere cold. Very cold._

Eragon felt the fine hairs at the back of his neck rise. Oromis had been absolutely confident that there was no spell that could move, transport, or teleport a living creature without killing it. Yet here was proof, right before his eyes. This man was dangerous, to the extreme.

Nasuada, oblivious as always to the subtleties of magic, saw only a man and his dog, interrupting their meeting. She turned to Angela.

"Put them to sleep, will you? We have more pressing matters at the moment than a boy and his pup." Angela nodded.

"Slytha"

Time seemed to slow. Eragon felt the individual beats of his heart.

Ba-dump

_Once…_

Ba-dump

_Twice…_

Reality slammed back into Eragon as he realized the man wasn't going to succumb.

"No," the man said, "You sleep."

True enough, Angela immediately slumped to the floor, stone-cold unconscious. Next to her Nasuada fell asleep, too. The stranger turned to Eragon, and Eragon realized that the stranger was young, in fact he was probably the same age as Eragon.

Behind him, Eragon saw Garzhvog sneaking up on the stranger. Sneaking was definitely the wrong word. A Nagra could have more success stepping on eggs without breaking them than Garzhvog trying to be quiet. Eragon knew than a full punch would most likely kill the interloper than knock him out, but before he could react Garzhvog had already thrown the punch.

Instants before it struck the back of his head, the stranger moved, letting the fist sail past him. As the Kull's body followed the punch, the stranger drew his sword in a reversed one-handed style. It would be an easy matter to take the kill. He could stab the Kull's chest, hitting a vital organ; or he could slash his throat with ease. The stranger's sword hand blurred, and the flash of moving steel followed. Garzhvog's eyes widened as he prepared for death.

The sword's hilt slammed into Garzhvog's forehead, and he too collapsed in a heap.

In the stillness that followed, it seemed like time had frozen. It lasted for eternity and a single instant at the same time.

The stranger flipped his grip on the sword, so the blade was projected thumb-side. He pointed the blade at Eragon.

"My name is Juang. I have come to judge you."

Eragon drew Brisingr.

_Be careful, Saphira. This guy is no joke. I think he can kill any one of us, easy. Try to use fire on him, but I doubt it will work._

Then, to Arya: _You saw what happened with Garzhvog. Wait until he's concentrating on me, then strike_.

Before Juang could close with Eragon, Saphira opened her maw to release a jet of fire. Impossibly quickly, the _thing _next to Juang blurred to Saphira, and appeared on top of her back. Sparks of energy appeared between the thing's paws and Saphira's scales. Through his link with her, Eragon felt faint pain.

_Eragon! Something's wrong… I can't move! I can barely breathe._

But Eragon had to focus on himself. The stranger's blade wove back and forth, seeking a hole in Eragon's defense. The man wasn't wearing any armor as far as he could tell, but Eragon wasn't wearing his armor either, and he knew that one mistake could end it all on either side.

Juang was holding his blade one-handed, whereas Eragon held Brisingr two-handed, since he had no shield. Eragon had the faintest sense that Juang was… playing with him? No, testing him seemed more accurate. But what scared Eragon the most was that he held his free hand in a particular way, forming a fist but with the second and third fingers extended. Oromis had taught Eragon that some people could use hand-signs as a focus for magic. Luckily, the stranger seemed to not be using any spells that Eragon could detect. Instead, he simply seemed to be using his left arm and hand as a counterweight to his sword side.

_Block, parry, backstep, thrust, block, duck, dodge, block, slash._

Eragon had no choice but to react immediately to the stranger's attacks. This Juang was incredibly fast. He was almost to Eragon as elven swordsmen were to Eragon, before he was transformed. Eragon could barely get in any strikes of his own, and couldn't even attempt any magic.

On the other side of the room, Alaya reached into her quiver and drew two arrows; one between her thumb and index finger and the second between her middle and fourth finger. She sighted on the wolf/dog/thing on top of Saphira. Alaya aimed a few inches below and to the side of the shoulder, exactly where the heart would be. She released the arrow, and nocked the second and released it before the first hit its target. She smiled. She didn't need to wait for the arrows to hit in order to know that they would piece the heart.

The first shaft entered and stopped suddenly, far enough in that the arrow's metal head was obscured in the fur and flesh. Immediately, the next shaft slammed into the exact same spot, splitting the first shaft right down the middle. It, too, hit perfectly. The giant wolf/dog thing turned its head and looked at her, making an odd coughing-panting sound. It was not the sound of an animal in pain.

It was the sound of laughter.

Alaya realized that there was no blood from the wound, even though by this time the perfect white fur should be covered in blood near the entry wound. A mind poked into her consciousness. Not an easy feat, given that all members of the Nighthawks were trained to resist almost all mental intrusions.

_Would you like/want to try another again/shot?_

Alaya scowled. "Shit!" She turned to Shadeslayer and the stranger, but they were too close and moving too rapidly for her to guarantee hitting Juang, not Eragon.

"Damn it!" cursed Eragon.

This was bad. Brisingr wasn't cutting through the other sword; any other blade would have been cleaved in two by now. Eragon could feel that he was stronger than his opponent, but Juang was faster than him. If only Eragon could force him to lock blades, then he could use his enhanced strength. But whenever Eragon came close to trapping their blades, Juang would always yield and step back, then start slashing away again.

Eragon couldn't concentrate enough to establish mental contact with Arya, and he couldn't say anything without losing the element of surprise. All he could do was hope that she would come in before he was killed.

_And at this rate, I _will_ be killed._

Eragon gasped as his opponent's sword drew a long, thin line of blood from his left forearm. He tried a riposte, aiming for the man's chest, succeeding in forcing Juang to back up slightly to avoid impalement. It wasn't much, but Eragon managed to say "Waise Heil" before the dark-haired man closed with him again.

Finally, the fight brought Eragon and Juang near Arya, with Juang's back to the elf. Right then, Arya chose to strike at Juang. She didn't dare attempt a thrust; she had seen him move and it was entirely possibly he was fast enough to move out of the way at the time of her attack, by pure coincidence causing her to stab Eragon instead. She instead tried a horizontal slash.

In front of Juang, Eragon saw Arya begin her slash. His eyes widened as he recognized the move. The elves called it "The Decapitator." Basically, one threw one's entire force into a slash aimed at the neck, the idea being that even if your opponent got his blade up to block it, the sheer force of the strike would allow your blade to slide along your opponent's, still scoring a fatal strike on the upper skull.

_That's risky… but with this guy, would anything else work?_

As it turned out, it didn't.

In the heat of battle, Juang wasn't sure what tipped him off to the elf behind him. Fighting was funny like that. After a while, you stopped thinking about how you noticed things; you just reacted to them.

Perhaps it was the faintest sound of footsteps that alerted him to danger, or maybe it was the way Eragon's eyes widened and flickered behind him, or maybe even the _whoosh_ of a moving blade. Juang dropped to a crouch, Arya's blade slicing over his head. He spun clockwise and slammed his left hand into her stomach, throwing her into the wall. With a loud _thwack_ her head hit unyielding stone, rendering her unconscious.

"Enough of these games…" Juang growled, circling Eragon and getting ready to strike again.

_Games? _Eragon thought. _A dragon incapacitated; an elf and a kull, each with decades of experience both easily knocked unconscious; my liege forcibly sent to sleep and likewise with the strongest human spell caster I know; and he calls it a game? He's about to finish me, I have to do something… completely unexpected… finally something I'm good at… so what hasn't he seen me do yet? Yes… that's it._

"**Brisingr!**" Eragon shouted, causing his sword to be covered in blue flames.

Juang took a step back. "You are slightly more advanced than I had thought you would be… but like I said, playtime is over. **Dian!**"

Sparks flew down the length of Juang's blade. Slowly the sparks grew until the metal spat miniature bolts of green lightning. He pointed the volatile sword at Eragon. Simultaneously they swung at each other. As the two swords connected, the room was filled with a blinding flash.

* * *

Far, far away, Rhunon awoke from a peaceful slumber. For the last Rider's blade she made, she imbued it with a tracer spell that let her know the relative location and condition of the blade. The ancient elf woke because she felt her link to Eragon's sword vanish.

_Eragon's sword—seven hells, what did the boy name it? Ah yes, Brisingr—my link to it just vanished! Only one man on the face of Alagaesia has the power to shatter one of my brightsteel blades… can that boy truly be facing Galbatorix so soon?_

Troubled, Rhunon couldn't fall back asleep. She decided to tell Queen Islanzadi of this new development.

* * *

**Ancient Language (of the Elves)**

Slytha: Sleep

Waise heil: be healed

Brisingr: fire; also the name of Eragon's sword.

**??? (Juang's language)**

Dian: lightning; electricity.

**(A/N: Oh, shit, what the f-ck just happened? Well if you want to know that you'll just have to wait for the next chapter, won't ya?**

**Anyways I may not update for a while. I'll probably be working solely on AtW, so I essentially will put this story on hiatus. Feel free to review or do whatever the hell you want.)**


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